


Virgin

by Gem_Gem, KittieHill



Series: Christmas Prompts [22]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: A-Z Christmas Prompt, Card Games, John is a Mess, John is trying, M/M, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:48:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21906988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gem_Gem/pseuds/Gem_Gem, https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittieHill/pseuds/KittieHill
Summary: “Fancy a game of cards?”
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: Christmas Prompts [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1559605
Comments: 4
Kudos: 93





	Virgin

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Gem_Gem: This is barely edited at all. Will be fixed and changed later.

The flat was quiet tonight, Mrs Hudson had left for her bridge club a few hours earlier leaving John and Sherlock to their own devices. John had cooked, nothing special just some pasta, and they had eaten together at the table, chatting about their day and Sherlock's newest experiment. It was nice. It was calm, but John knew that they needed to have a conversation about the -thing- that was happening between them. He hated to think about it, but he would need to open up and talk about his feelings.

Sitting in his chair, John watched the fairy lights go through their pattern before his attention was brought to an old set of playing cards on the mantle. Sherlock had showed him an old magic trick with them, but John suddenly had an idea of how to start the awkward conversation he needed.

“Fancy a game of cards?” John asked, smiling tightly as Sherlock popped his head up from behind his laptop screen. “We can gamble?”

Sherlock’s forehead furrowed in frowning disbelief, “Gamble?” he repeated with an amused puff of air from his nose. “With _what_?”

“Information?” John suggested, casually standing up to retrieve the cards and open it to count the, checking they were all there and giving his hands, his eyes, something to do. “Loser... answers a question?”

“... What _sort_ of information?” Sherlock asked with a piercing, suspicious narrowing of his eyes, watching John’s every move. “How many questions?”

“I don't know, just general stuff. Silly stuff...” he mumbled, shrugging, “And as many as we can be bothered asking. - We'll play a few hands and see what happens?”

Slowly closing his laptop and putting it aside, Sherlock tilted his head, stared John down, and then huffed, “This is _ridiculous_ ,” he complained. “Why would I care about ‘ _silly stuff_?’” However he slid forward on his seat, evidently interested with the game, as he was with most games, even if he pretended otherwise. “What sort of card game? I know quite a lot, though whether _you_ know them is another matter.”

“I played a lot in the army, I'm not the complete _pleb_ you think I am,” John huffed, but halved the cards one by one until they each had a small pile to pick up. “The quickest and easiest is definitely snap though.”

Curling his upper lip, Sherlock slumped back with a groan and swept out an arm toward him, “That’s a _child's_ game!” he whined, then quickly sat forward again with his eyebrows lifted and his hands spread in suggestion. “Crazy Eights instead - _Strip_ Crazy Eights. Make it more _appealing_.”

“ _Nope_. Snap.”

“There’s nothing to Snap!” Sherlock exclaimed petulantly, dropping back again. 

“Okay… fine, how about the first person to ten wins in Snap gets to take one item of clothing off the other playing,” John said with a raised eyebrow, “ _Happy_?”

Sherlock pursed his lips, folded his arms, crossed his legs and let out a long exhale, “ _Fine_.”

John smiled and nodded, lifting his cards and putting the first one down. Sherlock seemed genuinely grumpy as he placed his own card down, watching carefully as they took a few turns before John slapped his hand down, “ _Snap_!”

“I _hate_ this game,” Sherlock seethed, tapping his foot angrily against the rug and clenching his toes. “Fine. Ask your stupid, silly, unnecessary, irrelevant, waste of time question.”

“Shut up whinging,” John said, rolling his eyes. “Okay er – when did you have your first cigarette? How old were you, I mean?”

Sherlock let out a hissing sigh through his grinding teeth and looked skyward frustratingly, “Twelve,” he muttered and got ready to continue, grumpily glaring when John lifted his eyebrow. “What? - I _was_ twelve. My uncle smoked, he left me alone for _far_ too long, and I wanted to see what the fuss was about. I hated it and threw up all over his fancy fur rug. All right?”

“And yet you continued?” John frowned. “Your logic boggles my mind.”

“I did it wrong. I was _twelve_. And his cigarettes were some posh brand… I tried them again when I was sixteen.”

“Huh, well thank you for answering,” John replied as he added the snapped cards to the bottom of his own stack. “You go first.”

Sherlock slammed his card down, “Are you saying I have a _choice_ whether I answer or not?” he drawled with a quirking smirk, waiting until John put down his card before he smacked down his. “I propose another rule to the game - If we _don’t_ answer, or don’t want to, then there is a forfeit…”

“What sort of forfeit are you suggesting?” John asked nervously. “Nothing illegal or that can have me struck off as a doctor, I hope?” 

“Whoever wins gets to decide what it is. Could be anything. Or nothing,” Sherlock told him and when John shakily put down his next card, Sherlock placed his, glanced down, and then glanced back up. “ _Yes_?”

John nodded nervously and placed his next card down, not really paying attention, “Okay, I agree. Truth or forfeit.”

Sherlock wrinkled his nose, “Don’t say it like that. You make it sound so… _juvenile_ ,” he muttered and looked at his card as it went down, slapping the top of it. “Snap—Why can’t you just allow what we have to be what it is?”

Inhaling his own saliva in shock, John coughed and snorted through his nose, holding his cards to his chest, “ _Jesus_...” he muttered, “You couldn't have started _small_?”

“ _No_ ,” Sherlock replied curtly. “That’s what this is about…” He looked away and then shuffled, glancing back from under his lashes. “You make it far more complicated than it has to be. - I know it’s… a tad awkward, but there _are_ some strong relationships that start this way. _As friends_. It's supposed to help. Makes it so there is little to no surprises between the two, no real shocking conflict, because they already know the person they're with. Just not on a sexual level… until they do, of course.”

“It's – the _friendship_ that's the problem,” John replied and then winced. “No, not problem... not exactly. It's – _fucking hell_ – it's that I don't want to lose this if it goes wrong. Everything we've built together. The home, the work, the little family unit we have. I _couldn't_ live without all of that and I'm --” He shifted uncomfortably, taking a deep breath. “I'm just scared of actually putting a name to what we have.”

“There is no need to put a name to it. To label it. We don't have to justify it to other _people_ ,” Sherlock told him and fiddled with his cards. 

“Yea, yeah, I know that. And I… I can do it, not justify it for others, but... but I... I...” John cleared his throat and finally putting down another card. "It's more... more to do with me. _Us_. And what it would mean. What... what it means for... _things_ — _God_ , I just... putting a name to it would mean that what we had is _gone_ , that we may never... and I..."

“ _Nothing_ will be ruined,” Sherlock scoffed under his breath and threw down his card. “Not fully... I will not allow—”

“ _Snap_!” John called out, shuffling in his chair and leaning forward. “Do you want me to stop dating other people and be _completely_ faithful to you? In all... in every... _every_ possible way?”

Sherlock’s entire face went pink in an instant, patches reddening further on the arch of his cheeks, “ _What_?—I… I…” he struggled, blinking down at the cards. “Dating others _distracts_ you. Gets in the way of… _everything_. - And you can’t seem to pick anyone good. _None_ of them deserve you...”

“Is... that a yes?” John asked quietly, heart beating so hard he feared it might explode from his chest. “Because... I will. I _could_. I... I only seem to want you anyway... heh, you're... one of a kind and... things are—”

“... That’s not true,” Sherlock said with a humourless laugh that pulled his mouth down. “If what we have has no label, there are... no rules - You are… free to do what you want. I will not tie you down. _Cage you_. Everything is… open.” He wouldn’t look at John though and was gripping the cards, bending them slightly between his hands. “It is what it is. I always gave you a way out. Always will. I am… not an easy man to like.”

John considered him for a moment, considered his words and how he had said them, and then put his cards down, reaching for Sherlock's hand, “What if... I don't want it... to be open?” he asked. “I – I find you _extraordinarily_ stressful sometimes, but I've _never_ disliked you. Never hated you for anything. Never thought less of you...”

Sherlock shot him an unconvinced look but gave a shadow of a smile in return, “I don’t know why you are so… _conflicted_ with this. So scared. Out of the two of us, if we were parted, you would survive without me. I _know_ you would. You’d get on with life, make new friends, new lovers, get married quite possibly… it would be fine. - The pain of a lost friendship wouldn’t linger as long as you think it would—”

“I would be broken,” John whispered in a harsh, strangled wheeze, meaning every utterance. He could feel every atom in his body tearing apart at the thought of a life without Sherlock in it. “I _wouldn't_ be able to function. - What is my life without you in it? A lonely GP with no real prospects of higher achievement.” His eyes watered and he looked away, focussing on the tree and the lights, at the science flask baubles. “It's like... you're the centre of my world and if you _leave_ then... then there would be a _vacuum_...” 

“...That’s just your dick talking,” Sherlock mumbled after a few seconds and John adjusted his gaze to find Sherlock giving him a teasing, playful, though soft smile. “Or what is it people call it? _The Honeymoon phase_? Where infatuation takes over? - That… that fades, John. It is... interfering and seems _endless_ now, but it won’t… it _won’t_ last. _Nothing lasts_...”

“No... no but... but I— _This_ is... this is me trying to put things into words. I'm not good at it… neither of us are really, but... but I _want_ this to work. I want us to try and keep this – whatever _this_ is – going for as long as we can. There are things I... want to say. Things I should say. But I... can't. I don't exactly know if—”

“ _John_ ,” Sherlock scoffed and put down a card, "Stop fretting so."

John groaned, rubbing at his face, and put a card down, “It's not as _easy_ as that! - I know I haven't been great, but I'm going to try and be better. Try to be more _in the moment_ and not constantly worry.”

Another card followed John's, “I do understand the worry,” he murmured. “I do not want to ruin things either. - But I’ve _always_ been curious. Always been attracted to _risks_ … I, therefore, wanted to try. Couldn't quite help myself...”

“I'm glad you did. I am. It might not seem it. Not before, when _this_ started, or a few times afterward, but, I _am_ glad. - And I'm glad you _keep_ trying, because… _well_ … I'm not confident enough to ask for what I want...”

Sherlock chuckled quietly, “In _some odd way_ I am flattered by that.”

John sniggered in reply and then slapped another card down, shouting snap, “So… er… how to phrase this one… _erm_... in your past have you ever – er—”

“Done _this thing_ before?” Sherlock groused and let out a long sigh, smoothing down his shirt and clenching his jaw. “Surely the answer is obvious?”

“Well, I suppose so, yes. I mean, it seemed like you were... _inexperienced_ ,” John admitted, ensuring his voice remained steady and none judgmental, “but I didn't know if there had been anyone – _special_. If you had done... other things with... other people, perhaps?”

Sherlock pressed his lips together in a firm line and cocked his head, “... Define 'special.'”

“You know...” John winced, back to feeling uncomfortable, “Intimate… _romantic_ … anything like that.”

“... _No_ ,” Sherlock answered briskly and his face hardened. “Disadvantage. Distracting. Demoralising.” He swallowed, glared heatedly down at his cards, and straightened his spine. “I… wanted it. Once. In the past. But I never—It _never_ happened to me. Not until recently. With _you_.” 

“Do you feel that it's demoralising with me?” John asked nervously, bracing himself, “because I _never_ want you to feel that way...”

“You can’t ask two questions,” Sherlock told him, flashing a small, twisting grin. “But no. Not _entirely_.”

John felt himself relax slightly, the tension disappearing from him in a stuttering wave, and he nodded, putting down another card, “I don't know how many we're on… I haven't been keeping count...”

“That sounds like a _you_ problem,” Sherlock replied and put down a card to continue.

“ _Tit._ ”

"Idiot."

John huffed, throwing down his card, watching like a hawk as Sherlock put his next one down, “I'm _determined_ to win. Have you sitting there in no pants whilst I crow like the winner.”

Rolling his eyes, Sherlock sat back trying to look bored, “Peter Pan now, are you?” 

“Peter Pan stayed young forever,” John sighed, “I'm just getting older, fatter and greyer. - I _wish_ I could be young forever. Imagine us both solving crimes for centuries...”

“You’re _not_ fat,” Sherlock dismissed with a small hand wave of annoyance.

“Not as thin as I used to be though. It's the late night takeaways that are killing me. I'll start a diet in the new year… _probably_.” 

“You’re _fine_. It’s muscle, John,” Sherlock complained in frustration and thudded the cards seconds after he'd laid his down. “ _Snap_!—Does it matter that I’m a virgin?”

Slightly thrown by how quickly Sherlock tossed his questions at him, John blinked, adjusted his position and then shook his head vigorously, negatively, “Not at _all_. It's... good. I like it… it's not like a _kink_ or anything. It's just that I like the idea of you learning from _me_ … that you _trust_ me. That I'm the one able to show you those things… to give you the pleasure you've never felt before...” John trailed off, tugging at the neck of his jumper. “It doesn't matter though. If you weren't, that's fine too... it's all just perfectly _fine--_ ”

“Everyone has some fixation on sexual experience. Whether you’ve done it, whether you haven’t, and what that _apparently_ means, what that says about you,” Sherlock complained. “Always asking if I’m seeing anyone, been with anyone. Always making _assumptions_. - I chose to remain a virgin. I wanted not to be at one time, of course, but then I just… _embraced_ it. It became a part of me. For a while…”

“But – but not anymore?” John asked carefully.

“After what we’ve done, I’d say my virginity is on it's way out. - If it's not done with already. I suppose it depends on who you ask. Some consider loss of virginity to include oral sex, anal sex or mutual masturbation, after all...”

“I've never done it before,” John disclosed quietly, shuffling his cards without looking, nervous and stupidly timid. “With a _man_ I mean. - I've kissed and sort of touched a bit, in the past, but _nothing_ as much as we do together. And I've never gone the _full way_. You know, anal... not done that.”

“... So _you’re_ a virgin too?” Sherlock asked with a small chuckle. “In a manner of speaking, anyway.”

“Bum virgin,” John laughed, “ _Yep_ , that's me.”

“Hm. Bit of a shame that though,” Sherlock mumbled but held up a hand at John’s offended and confused look. “It seems to work well with one of us being more experienced. - Have you not done a bit of it with the fairer sex?”

Johns cheeks went felt like they'd been set on fire and he stammered slightly, “I – er, _well_ that is – I, um, tried. _Once_. With an ex, but I was too big and she... she didn't like it so we stopped. - So _no_... never more than a couple of inches anyway...”

Sherlock’s neck and collarbones went rosy, “ _Oh_...”

“I mean… we don't have to do... _that_.” John stumbled, “the er – anal stuff. I'm… I'm willing to give it a go, but I understand if you're not interested. It doesn't really matter. We've done just fine without any kind of... _penetration_ so far... and not everyone likes it or can have it so...”

"So you don't want it?"

"I didn't say that now, did I?"

"So you _do_ want it?"

"I'm... I'm saying that I'd... I'd be... inclined to have a crack at it, at _all_ of it, but we don't _need_ it... right? We can do other things."

“...So you _don't_ want to do it,” Sherlock intoned and threw the cards down on his armrest, standing up. “If you’re _not_ interested, then fine--”

“ _No_! No wait, you misunderstand me - You're not _listening_!” John insisted, rushing to grab Sherlock's arm, “I'm saying... I said... I _meant_ , that— _oh God_ , I just meant that I'd be willing to – _you know_ – take it from _you_... as well as... the... the other thing. - I'd... I'd be willing to try and let you fuck me if you don't want to be fucked basically...”

“You would be all right with...” Sherlock mumbled slowly, blinking in shock, and pointing at himself with a lifted brow. “ _Really_? You... trust me to do that? You'd be okay with me doing that?"

"Yeah... _yes_."

Sherlock snapped his mouth closed and clawed his hands through his hair, shaking with a short, rumbling laugh, stuck somewhere between panicked and thrilled, “I... I don't know if I _can_ —I can barely contain myself when you _touch_ me, how am I can going react when I'm... I'm... _inside_... of you... oh _no_. I'll be... rubbish!”

"You'll be _fine_! We... we all have to start somewhere--"

"Oh my God, _shut up_!" Sherlock snorted, face more red than pink now, and leaned into him, hiding into the crook of John’s neck.

"When I penetrated someone for the first time, I barely lasted more than a minute..."

"Stop..."

"Didn't even get the condom on in time--"

" _Stop_!"

"I'm just saying it's... okay. _Natural_ even for a first time--"

" _For goodness sake_..."

"But we don't... we don't _have_ to do anything that you don't want or that... that might... cause some sort of... _regret_ —"

Sherlock lifted his head, slapped a hand over his mouth, stared at John, and shook his head in fond amusement, “ _You're an idiot_.”

**Author's Note:**

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> 
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> 


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